Abbie's Gift (21 page)

This run was about endurance and stamina so Abbie decided to avoid looking at her watch, as time she felt was somewhat irrelevant.

After what felt like a long time, she approached the far end of the beach, and the landscape changed significantly. There were no rocks or ruggedness, but rather low sandy mounds that gave way to rough sea grass and then to low- lying fields beyond.

To her surprise Abbie found running on sand rather more taxing physically than she’d anticipated, and her legs felt almost too heavy to move.

She slowed to walking pace for a few minutes before turning round and heading back up towards the village. She felt tired but exhilarated: five miles completed.  She couldn’t resist looking at her watch and estimated that she’d been running for about 55 minutes, and she set off again this time lengthening her stride to ease out the stiffness in her legs.

She found now that the wind had diminished and the air felt still, and she was still the only person on the whole beach.

As she ran her stomach began to rumble, and she realised she’d not eaten since the evening before. For now, her regular sips of water would have to do as that was all she had. In just less than an hour since she’d set off running, Abbie arrived back at the rocks where she’d started. 

As she slowed down she was very aware of fatigue setting in, so she spent a few minutes stretching then set off up the dune path back to the sanctuary of her caravan. At the top as she approached the rocky clearing, she again saw the man in the beige coat walking on the road, using his stick for assistance with a slight limp. He was very neatly dressed and looked quite distinguished, Abbie thought, dark hair greying at the temples, she guessed in the age range of late fifties.

Once he saw Abbie, the man left the road and crossed the open ground towards her.  Abbie’s breathing had only just returned and she felt a little unable to speak.

“Good morning, a beautiful day?” he said.

“Yes it is”.

”I love these bright mornings, and today’s not too cold.  Have you been far?”

“To the end of the beach and back”

“Running all that way?”

Abbie, still breathing heavily, merely nodded.

“That’s mighty impressive” he replied.  “I’m just out for my daily walk, not as quick as I used to be but I enjoy it.  Good day to you”.

“’Bye” Abbie replied. As she walked away, she thought to herself that he seemed too smart and well-dressed for a country walk, and not really prepared for the possible bad weather, but then again maybe he knew no different.

Back at the caravan, she had to eat something straight away to remove the dull ache in her belly that was getting too much to bear.

Later on at lunch time that day she went down to the harbour for a walk, and again felt free and unburdened by the woes she had encountered back home. She treated herself to a full English breakfast at the harbour café; she was amazed at how good the food tasted, so fresh and full of flavour. The cafe was quiet with no other customers, and she enjoyed being an anonymous visitor; no questions asked or answers needed.  Besides she thought, if anyone did ask, she could tell them anything, they wouldn’t know any better. She laughed to herself: she could tell them she was a TV script writer seeking out a new location for a drama; that would soon get tongues wagging, exciting the locals towards their fifteen minutes of fame.

Abbie spent the afternoon quietly, a bit of reading and listening to music on her MP3 player.  In the warmth her eyelids grew ever heavier and she struggled to keep them open, eventually drifting into a slumber.

When she woke she noticed it was already getting dark outside, the light beginning to fade. It doesn’t matter, she thought, all my time is my own; I can do what I want, when I want, and there no one to answer to.

The caravan was warm and a bit stuffy, so Abbie decided to put her coat on and go outside for some fresh air. 

In the still evening she decided to take the short walk down to the harbour. The village seemed deserted; where did all these people go, she thought, if they were ever here?

The water in the harbour was still, and the boats seemed glued to the mirror -like surface where they were moored, reflecting their images on the polished sea. She sat on a bench taking in the fresh and still air. The sky was taking on a reddish hue as the sun was setting inland, the water too becoming a subtle shade of pink and violet.

“Hello” said a voice from behind her. Abbie turned and saw Simon with Jess, out for a walk.

“Hi” she replied.

“You had a good day?” Simon asked.

“Yes, thanks very relaxing. I fell asleep this afternoon so I’ve just come out for some air”

“Been running?”

“Yes, on the beach this morning, it was good but hard work”.

“How far did you go?”

“To the far end of the beach and back”.

“My, that’s a long way, how long did it take you?”

“Two hours or so, although my legs now think it was longer”, she smiled.

Simon sat on the end of the bench, Jess obediently lying at his feet.

“Everything OK in the caravan?”

“It’s really fine, very comfortable, thank you”.

“Good, if you need anything the shop’s open till five-ish”.

“No I’m fine at the moment, thanks”

For a few minutes they sat in silence, just enjoying the evening air and stillness.

Simon then said that Jess needed feeding so he was heading back.  Abbie remained on the bench, content in her own space and world, contemplating her life as the light reflected on the still water in front of her. Here, right now, time held little meaning for her: it was either light or dark, sleep or run, eat when she wanted, and being with Peter when she chose.

The following day the sky was clear and the sun bright, the air cool and still. Abbie decided to repeat her run in the morning, again taking her time over the ten miles. The waves gently lapped the shore line along the entire beach, which was again deserted.  She was glad she wouldn’t be disturbed and as she today planned to leave her body for some time.

Today, somehow the run felt easier to her than the day before, her leg muscles not protesting. Running steadily, she focused her mind on her consciousness and leaving her physical self behind.

Whether it was due to being in a different and unfamiliar place she wasn’t, but at first, her mind strayed several times, and she had to think hard and focus on what she wanted to achieve.

Eventually her determination paid off and she found herself rising gently, high up to a brightness that enveloped everything ahead of her.

She glanced down and saw the silver shining cord that connected these two different parts of her together, her spirit and her bodily self, running below over the sands. She wondered if anyone saw her right now, could they suspect anything different was going on?

Seeing Peter was again a joy, to have found this way to remain in contact with him, to be able to be with her true love was wonderful and she could never really comprehend it. She thought of it purely as a gift.

Out of her physical self, Abbie had a sense of freedom that thrilled her, it was peaceful and yet exhilarating at the same time. The time they were together, the embraces they shared were the most comfortable place in the world for her, their spirits seemingly resting together.

Peter was always glad she came to him, and she was convinced of his love beyond any doubt, believing this was why he remained here and did not move on. Somehow though at this meeting, Abbie felt there was heaviness about him that she hadn’t noticed before. There seemed to be a concern, a weight burdening him - was it to do with her? Had she caused this?

For some reason Abbie felt uneasy and unsure about how to approach this, or whether in fact she should, so she said nothing to Peter.

Abbie again noticed other astral beings this time; some were together with others, some were travelling alone and contented, but a few looked desperately sad and lost, and she wondered if Peter ever appeared this way when she was away from him.

When their astral beings were together, locked tightly in a unique embrace of passion, it felt that nothing could possibly separate them. Abbie believed she belonged in Peter’s arms, yet the fragility of her human countenance was a constant reminder that now they really were of different worlds, and she was choosing to live a part of her life in both.

Despite being so content, she couldn’t help but wonder if Peter was really happy with this: did he get lonely? Does he want to move on to somewhere better? Is he sad when she’s gone? Was she holding him back?

All these questions were becoming more urgent and she knew she had to face them somehow, but she was frightened at what the answers might be.

Abbie became aware of her running body approaching the end of the beach from where she had started, so it was time to leave Peter’s embrace and return to herself. She would go back but felt that leaving his embrace was somehow unfair and unnecessary.

She slowed her pace to walking for a few yards as she reached the sand dune path that would take her back to the village, and she rested for a few minutes before making her way up the dune path.

As she approached the top she became aware again of the man in the beige coat standing in the clearing overlooking the beach. He smiled as he saw her; Abbie immediately felt self-conscious at being hot in her running gear, complete with woollen hat.

What must I look like? She thought

Abbie approached him as she crossed the clearing, and she noticed more clearly his handsome features and that he looked distinguished, with a real sense of presence, something often missing in younger people she thought. He was immaculately dressed, from head to toe; his black shoes shining even in this rugged terrain. He wore a smart shirt and tie under his coat, and was leaning against his old-fashioned walking stick with a large brass knob on top, the ebony wood shining as it caught the light.

“Good morning, how are you today?” He asked.

“Very well thank you, and you?”

“Can’t complain” he smiled, “I love it here, so fresh and invigorating, makes you glad to be alive, don’t you think?”

“Yes, of course” Abbie felt unsure what to say.

“Are you on holiday?” He enquired.

“For a few days, yes”.

“Me too, I come here every year at this time. I love the transition from autumn to winter, the colours are truly fabulous. I’m staying in a rented cottage a few miles down the road, but I love to walk this headland, the finest countryside and coast I’ve ever seen. I walk for a few hours each day” he continued.

Abbie smiled, “I’m staying in the village, it’s lovely here. I found this place by chance, rather lucky I think?”

“Look” he said, “this may seem rather forward of me, but I will be fancying a bite to eat soon, it’s getting near lunchtime; would you like to join me in about an hour, in the village, the cafe’s rather good”.

Abbie was startled at this suggestion.

“Erm, oh”, she struggled, “thank you, I’d rather not thanks”.

“That’s all right I’m just being friendly that’s all, not a lot of folks around to talk to at this time of year, no offence Miss...?”

“Abbie, I’m Abbie”, she said.

“Hello Abbie I’m Michael, how do you do”, he stretched out his hand in a greeting, which Abbie shook; to her surprise even through her glove his skin was cold to the touch.

“Would you join me?” he asked again. “It would be nice to chat for a while. I won’t even offer to pay if it offends you”, he said, smiling.

Abbie felt uneasy. “Thanks, but I was really hoping to be just spending time alone, thanks all the same”.

“It’s fine, I understand completely” said Michael “you enjoy the rest of your day”.

Michael smiled as he turned away from her, and as he walked Abbie again noticed his limp and how he leaned on his cane for support.

Back at the caravan she showered and changed and then made herself some food; she was realising how these longer runs were making her very hungry. She listened to music as she ate, but her mind kept going back to Michael, his apparent kindness and sincerity and also – she had to admit - his handsome features. She wondered if she had offended him by not going to lunch; she hadn’t meant to be unkind, but she felt awkward.

At mid-afternoon she went to the shop and bought a few supplies.  The old man in the shop seemed pleased to see her, but Abbie thought he was only pretending to remember her; the blank expression on his face gave him away.

She walked out of the shop, into the quiet village street, and decided to go to the cafe for some tea.  As she entered the bell on the door chimed announcing her arrival, and the lady behind the counter looked up and smiled. The room was empty except for one table – Michael.  He sat with his back to her but she recognised it was him as the beige overcoat was draped over the next chair.